One Foot In Front Of The Other
by SandStormHero
Summary: Even the savior of the commonwealth needs something to come home to. Something to heal the wounds stimpacks and radaway can never heal. Something stronger than himself. Something, that keeps him going no matter how hard the wasteland becomes. That keeps him moving, one foot in front of the other. (101 x Moira) - Commission.


**A/N: Just a fun Commission I wanted to share. Enjoy, and if you are a fan please feel free to check out my personal fallout story Vault 69 telling the story of the vault experiment where one man is placed in a vault with nine hundred and ninety nine women.**

 **Tag(s): Oral, Fondling, Cowgirl.**

 **Pairing: TLW x Moira Brown**

 **Beta: Lords of Ember Celica**

 **Words: 6497**

 **One Foot In Front Of The Other**

"Welcome to Megaton. The Bomb is perfectly safe. We promise."

Peter stared at the worn out robot guarding the oversized metal gate guarding the city of Megaton, exhausted, dirty, and with eyes that seemed to stare on for miles. Glancing up, hardly a second passed before Stockholm, stationed above the widow's peak overlooking the wasteland, recognized the familiar features of the town's savior, activating the turbine that slowly began to pull the shields guarding the entrance wide open.

Left, right, left right, his feet carried him into the shade of the town's archway. The same monotonous motion that drove him to cross miles and miles of land without rest; without sleep. Even as he felt his knees pop with each step, and the thin bones along his feet creaking with each step, he continued. Seeming more machine than man. Finally the doors to the main town opened. And he was home.

Rather than relax or drop the heavy load of pilfered rifles and ammo he'd scavenged from those unfortunate enough to point a gun in his direction, he remained alert. Dark, shadowy blue eyes scanning each face and gesture as he walked the wooden path leading towards the now deactivated nuclear missile towards the town's center. Despite his exhaustion he remained tense and at the ready for anyone who might be foolish enough to think and take him. Or _anything_. His time in the godforsaken nuclear apocalypse had taught him these lessons. The same lessons it taught everyone foolish enough to think they were above the unyielding law of nature.

It seemed like just yesterday he'd been that pale faced boy, forced from the vault with the blood of his neighbors still staining his jumpsuit and with no idea about what kind of world waited for him. At the time, Megaton had stood out as the single hope of direction in a world of chaos. Ironic, considering from a distance it looked closer to a junk heap than anything that he's been used to. But that same collection of rust and twisted metal had become his new home. Even a sanctuary away from all that went bump in the night. And speaking of his sanctuary, standing above the famous crater side supply, young man finally felt the tension in his face sag. Along with the rest of his travel weary form.

He opened the door.

"Well, hello there! Welcome to-." Bright and ever so cheerful, the voice that greeted him was cut short as soon as the red haired woman behind the counter turned to recognize the shape standing in the doorway. Always grinning, at the moment the curve in her lips appeared to calm. The expression only lasted a moment before her cheer was back in full force. Although, when she spoke, her tone was noticeably calmer. And yet full of more emotion than either could really understand. "Welcome back," she continued. And Peter couldn't help but return the heartwarming expression.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. Instead he just allowed the straps of his pack and holsters to slip down his body. Falling to the floor with an audible thump.

Moira Brown. The lovable, if not quirky, business owner of the one and only general store in town. That same day he'd been forced from his home, the same day he'd stumbled upon this next of radiation and metal, had been the same day he's found her. Quite possibly the only reason he'd managed to survive to get to this point.

He remembered their first meeting, as he stumbled in looking to pawn the few guard's helmets and pistols he'd scavenged from the vault on his way out. One thing led to another and the subject of a survival guide had been brought up. Clueless and as lost as a new born baby, the thought of any kind of literature that might help him survive had been too much to pass up. Thus began a… strange new relationship that even he couldn't explain properly.

She would explain the subject of each chapter, outlining where he could gather the best data and information. Stepping out that door, she was the last face he saw before venturing out into the wasteland. And the first one he always returned to. And somehow, somewhere along those lonely walks and cheerful greetings the light behind her eyes started to shift.

As the book continued they both found him venturing into more and more dangerous situations. At one point, they both had to acknowledge that after he walked out her door, there was a very real possibility that he might not be coming back. A prospect that neither found sat well with them. But after day after day of killing, of wandering the wasteland until every inch of his clothing seemed to be soaked in raider blood, of searching for a father that was nowhere to be found, eventually it was too much for even the lone wanderer to take.

He remembered the night he finally seemed to snap.

Super mutants, the worst of the worst. Mindless, violent monsters that never seemed to sate their thirst for blood and mutilation. Normally he did his best to just avoid the oversized brutes. But then, occasionally, he would come across a camp filled with the screams of innocent wastelanders tied and bound just waiting for god knows what to finally silence them.

Normally Peter managed to free them. Normally, the pain of bullet wounds and fractured bones were offset by the joyful faces of those he'd just saved. Normally, he had the fortune of handing them a handful of caps and a stimpack before watching them meander back to whatever lives they'd been torn from. That day… none of them had been so lucky.

That had been his longest walk back to town in all of his wandering. The wasteland. His father. His life. All of it was been too much for him to handle. But it was just as he'd been about to break that Moira had managed to keep him together. Just another day. Just another hour. Just another minute. So long as he had her to return to he had the strength to keep fighting. To take that next step towards home. Right foot, and then the left.

Moira's eyes never left him, seeing more than he could ever imagine. His last excursion had been… particularly brutal. Leading him into an entire den of rad scorpion's who's just finished a caravan for dinner. Radaway and stimpacks might sew his flesh back together but unfortunately they did nothing to dull the pain left behind. Seeing his expression, or perhaps what was behind his face, Moira's own eyes, green and glimmering, seemed to widen a fraction of an inch. Along with her grin.

"Hmm, Georgie? I think I'll be closing eagerly today," her gaze wandered toward the ever present mercenary standing guard over her many goods. His stoic, vaguely Asian features didn't even blink at the obvious dismissal. Instead he just nodded, a light grin threating to crack through as he shuffled off past the dust covered young man and out into the small town. The door clicked behind him. Followed by an audible lock.

"Moira-." Peter sighed, stepping forward. But said redhead didn't let him continue, her dimpled cheeks and sparkling eyes flashing as she held up a hand to quite him. He slowed to a stop.

"Long day?" She guessed. In the same tone she would offer towards a bruised knee or gushing bullet wound. Though she could tell just by looking. Peter just stared, a weary smile starting to form. Its appearance only made Moira's grin brighter. "Ohh, that's okay! Come on, upstairs and I have _just_ the thing to perk you right up. How does that sound?"

It was amazing how innocent she could sound considering what she actually offered. It was so off hand, casual. To anyone else they would assume she intended to lead them towards a soft bed for the night or that she was going to offer them a chilled nuka-cola. But Peter, Peter knew better. Which only made the sudden need in his gaze that much more obvious. Moira's lips thinned into a tight grin. The smallest of wrinkles forming on the bridge of her nose as she noticed his reaction.

They didn't waste any more time standing near the store front. A narrow metal stair case lead up towards the second level where a comfortable coach, end table, and adjacent bathroom were set off to the side. At the very end was a small nook of a bedroom. Following Moira up the steep slope, the two made their home there. Facing each other

Alone at last, Peter didn't waste any more time moving to wrap the red haired woman in his arms. She accepted him happily. Pressing the soft full curves of her body against the thick layers of his clothes and armor.

The same hand that had been clutching the butt of a laser riffle slipped softly around the small of her back, like she was the only thing holding him up. Fitting just under his chin, he was free to enjoy the soft strands of hair that managed to escape her messy bun tickle his dust stained face. Feeling a shutter, his lips reach down to press against the crown of her head, breathing in deep basking the unique blend of sweat and oil he'd come to dream about whenever he was away. Moira, feeling his breath, giggled at the gesture. And moved to press her face against the solid weight of his chest.

Something had happened. She'd seen it the moment he'd walked in. a shade in his eye or an invisible weight against his shoulders. But she wouldn't say anything about it. She didn't need to know what. She didn't need to remind him. He needed her. So she would hold him. And even if it was only for a few hours, help him forget.

Her face lifted and her eyes opened to look at his tired face. Without a word or warning she reached up, stretching just to lay her lips on his. As much as this was a gift for peter, that didn't make it any less of a celebration for the woman stuck waiting for him to return.

He was real. He was safe. He'd made it home. He'd come back to her. Moira's hands fisted the front of his tattered clothes, completely uncaring for the dirt and grim already brushing off against her own burgundy jumpsuit. It was as though she needed to touch him. To feel that he was actually there with her.

Already smiling, soon she could feel his expression match. She deepening the kiss, feeling her breath leave her as soon as the tense expression softened against her own features and his lips began to move with hungry, almost desperate purpous. She couldn't stop the squeak the followed. Or the delightful giggle. But neither even slowed the wonderer's momentum. If anything the familiar sound of her laughter only pressed him harder to surround himself in her presents. And soon enough, all laughter died off. Replaced only by the wet sounds of their mouth's working in tandem.

The shift transitioned smoothly. Without thought or conscious decision between either of the wastelanders. The hands that gripped peter's coat and shirts so desperately moved, deftly peeling the fabric off of his shoulders. Without breaking their connection, the young man aided the transition as best he could shrugging out the clothes and letting the clothing hit the ground. In a matter of seconds his chest, tanned by hours in the sun, was bare to the room. And Moira was free to touch the real him. a great sigh delighting her senses her hands molded against the lithe muscles just underneath.

She allowed her fingers to wander tracing over the hard lines and cords, enjoying the delicious tingle the sensation shot through her core. Something managed to distract her from the deliciously firm body pressing against her. A new groove that she was most certain had not been there before. Finally, she pulled away; curiosity and the need to understand driving her as much as any womanly instincts.

She pulled her tongue from his mouth, licking always the combination of their saliva blinked at his tensed frame, her eyes locked the sight of a new pocketed dimple interrupting the natural curve of his shoulder. Her eyes lit up like Christmas morning.

Scars, more than any woman should have to count, marked the slab of his chest in a crisscross of blades, bite marks and bullet holes. Synthetically healed, most injuries smoothed over if a stimpack was applied fast enough. But particularly… gruesome injuries tended to come out warped. Scars of twisted skin that couldn't even figure out how to knit itself back together. Her finger's traced the brand new scar. And it was new, she could tell. Because she'd gotten the wonderful privilege of watching each one pop up. How did a girl ever get so lucky?

"Super mutant's nail board." Peter explained without needing to be asked. He could only smile at the utter delight that sparkled in Moira's eyes as she examined the new injury he'd sustained. He'd learned pretty early on that she was more of a direct and analyze type of girl. Explaining his various injuries worked better than any kind of dirty talk he'd ever tried. "Got right under the bone. Felt like it was going to tear my freaking arm of when he finally yanked it back."

Thrilled, her eyes focused on the clear hole that had been drilled into the once smooth skin, a long line tearing down from the gash marking the path of the rusty weaponry. She had to bite her lip just to keep from launching into the many, many questions already piling up. But there would be time for that later. Now she needed to perform a… different kind of first aid. Not for the body, but the soul.

This time when her hands stilled against his chest, Peter closed his eyes to appreciate the gentle gesture; sighed at the relief her touch brought, gently groping and working any of his lingering pains from his aching frame. It was like everywhere she touched left a path of relief. And afterword, excitement.

Moira busied herself with a slow massage, working her fingers closer and closer to her point of focus. Alive with joy, her green orbs stared, a smile just waiting to appear as the tips of her finger's traced over the compact surface of his abs. A few more inches and she was elated to undo the front of his pants.

Popping free, finally his eyes opened to look at her.

She continued to grin her Moira grin. Rather than comment she continued without apology until his fly was parted and already slipping down his thighs. A firm hand settled against his stomach urging him until the back of his knee's bent against the soft mattress of her bed. He allowed himself to fall the rest of the way.

Never taking his eyes off of her innocuous grin. He learned his mistake a moment later as she lowered herself towards the hard metal in front of him. The same expression turned toward the straining erection pressing against the front of his boxers. His breathing stopped. But Moira did not. And soon he was watching her hands return to the obvious budge, massaging it a moment before springing it free.

He could see her intention. And part of him thought better of forcing her. He didn't speak, but he didn't have to. And Moira's soothing voice beat him to the punch.

"Shhhh," she hushed, oddly serious. Normally she was so playful, even to a fault, it was hard to really understand when she was being serious. But when she did, Peter had learned it was a good idea to just shut up and listen. Moira smiled approvingly.

"You're tiered." She continued, looking up through her lashes as she faced the naked length of his cock. "Let me help you relax." Watching her lean towards the head of his cock, Peter was inclined to do just that. A heavy sigh following as he closed his eyes. Grasping the faded blue blanket beneath him as her sweet breath broke across his swollen head. Followed quickly by her lips.

Some women, hell, most, seemed to find tasks such as this unpleasant or shameful. A prospect Moira didn't understand in the least. Moira was a woman of logic, of science. Playful and silly as she might seem, such convinces as public morals or trends had never once weighted on her decisions. Professional or otherwise. Peter liked it. And for her, that was all she needed to know.

For a moment her actions seemed to make the poor young man more tense, rather than help him relax. The sensation of her soft lips and tongue drawing up and down his sooth shaft, licking him. Tasting him as his arousal was awoken. But slowly, slowly, the gentle coxing suction drawing him deep into her lips seemed to suck the very stress from his bones. Allowing his muscles to relax one at a time. Soon enough the stubborn flesh of his dick was the only thing left standing tensed. A prospect that pleased both of them quite a bit.

Moira's attention wasn't fast or powerful. Nor did she seem intent on picking up the pace. Instead her expression remained the same, serine and pleasant as she took her time working lips around peter's flesh at an almost leisurely pace. Rather than finish him off quickly, she wanted him to enjoy her presents. And take pleasure from the earnest pressure she allowed through her pursed expression. This wasn't about an orgasm. This wasn't to be started and then finished. This was just a woman taking care of a man after a very, very long day.

Moments past, the only sound in the room coming from his lap as Moira's saliva and gentle suction slurped against the smooth, veiny surface of his erection. As he grew more comfortable and relaxed he dared to allow his arms to easing his back down onto the mattress. Where he would lay and breathe while Moira took care of him.

Eventually he allowed his eyes to open, just to watch her brilliant head of red hair as hit bobbed against him. Slowly drawing up to his tip and then consuming him again just a bit faster. He watched the exchange several times before another sigh wracked his frame, his tone growing tighter and tighter with each instance. Closing his eyes once again he moved to cradle the back of her head, doing nothing to pressure or change the loving pace she'd set, but to feel that much closer to the woman who cared about him this much.

Moira, cupping the delicate sack dangling bellow his member with her hand, could hear the ever deepening sound of his voice as she gently massaged the orbs inside. She'd done this enough times now where she could read the signs it had been quite interesting in the beginning. A… study of male response to stimulation. She'd taken to it with the same excitement she did towards any of her little projects. Which is how she knew he was already starting to get close to bursting.

Rather than speed up and finishing him off, the devious creature that she was slowed down. Tightening her lips around him while the tip of her tongue flashed over his boubous head. Soon her ears were treated to a tortured hiss. And she couldn't stop the smile from twisting around the pillar of man meat studded in her gob.

This went on for some time. The slow and painful torture as she allowed his pleasure to go on, but never past what she allowed. True, this had been meant to relax him. To ease him back after so long on the road. But a girl had to get her entertainment somehow. Besides, seeing all hot and bothered was just so cute! The grown woman couldn't help herself sometimes. Fortunately for peter, she knew when to relent. And pulled her face off his cock after only a few more agonized minutes.

"Jesus…" Tomas sighed, running a hand through his now damp hair as he laid against the bed. In contrast, his erection stood proudly from his body. A tower of thick pulsing meat that demanded satisfaction. Moira giggled at the sight, as well as his exclamation. But reigned in her expression enough to appear sultry. Her lips smirked and her eyes slide to a half lidden smolder. Peter found himself repeating his word.

"Silly boy," she hummed, tracing a finger along the underside of his saliva covered shaft. "That sure does seem uncomfortable." Still smirking, peter would have cursed if he had the breath. Instead he only managed a brief, silent chuckle.

"You know I can't help but mention it's a little unfair for me to be the only one sitting naked over here," he returned. An unconvincing attempt at annoyance offered against her seductive expression. Her features didn't change, with the exception of a raised eyebrow. She slowly stood up from her position between his legs, arching her hips and bust impossibly well inside of formless jumpsuit.

"It's a little rude to expect me to do all the work, wouldn't you say?" she challenged, allowing an honest smile to surface if only for a few seconds. Just as quickly her smolder was back. And peter was fighting the ache in his joints to get up from his lazy position. The girl knew how to motivate him.

He stood with only a slight wince. Tired muscles crying out against being forced to work again after such a small break. But he was determined. And that damned zipper was mocking him, he was sure.

Moira waited for him, eyes delighted at the concentration set in his eyes. She knew he liked her body, she didn't need to be a scientist to read those responses. But still, it was nice to be reminded every now and then.

The front of her suit parted like butter, quickly growing loose around her shoulders and back. Underneath she wore a simple white t-shirt… and not much else. Which Peter was allowed to see the moment the blue material pooled around her feet. Left in only pair of white panties, and her top she was a sight to see. And suddenly all his pain was forgotten.

He took his time, slowly appreciating the body he'd gotten know over the years of enjoying Moira's company. Moira answered with a kiss, her expression softening as she allowed unrestricted exploration to his sick hands.

His open palm brushed against the smooth surface of her belly. Near starvation really was a 'wonderful' diet plan it turned out. Seemed to keep most people all kinds of trim and fit. Nevertheless, Moira was lucky enough to have a healthy amount of padding around her hips and chest. While still managing to keep her midsection wonderfully tight. Appraising the curve of her hip, his hands wormed there way under the warn cotton top finding themselves at her unrestrained breasts. He responded instinctually, cupping the supple warm orb as naturally as his own body. Only further coming how much time he'd spent fondling his lover. Moira sighed contently.

He wasn't the only one who enjoyed such skinship. After all, women are naturally inclined to offer up their bodies when they receive something in return. Pleasure mostly. As such, Peter had intentionally set out to learn all the secret's Moira's body offered. Even if she'd been the one that felt the need to point them out from time to time. Lucky for both of them, peter always had been a fast learner.

His fingers sank into the soft flesh, rolling and kneading the in a way that forced Moira to arch her back into his grasp. Gentle and firm, soon his digits shifted to the tips of her breasts. Already hard and at attention from the anticipation of what was to come. Bearing down, the red haired woman's breathe halted. One of the few ways she could ever be rendered silent. But the slightly rough treatment of her delicate flesh was a sure fire way to get her engines started. Soon the earnest attention had her leaning against his solid frame. And then rubbing against him for more of that wonderful friction.

Before she knew it, the pale white of her panties had a defined dark spot right between her legs. And a hot breath was forced from her lips. Peter knew then that he'd put in enough foreplay for the next stage of his welcome. Though he released her chest with weighing disappointment.

He took of her shirt a moment later, knowing better than to make her wait. The thread bare material felt like it might tear if handled too harshly. But neither of them cared. The same treatment was afforded to panties. Until finally peter found his back returning to the soft surface of her mattress. While an even more soft body crawled on top of hm.

He tried to get up, to kiss her again. But a hand against his sternum stopped him. And he was amazed to find that he didn't even have enough strength to try and fight her. Something sad flashed across Moira's face. But she smothered it with another one of her smiles.

"Now, now. None of that,' she chirped. Feeling his back thump against bed the pressure lifted as she drew her finger between the well-defined, firm muscles of his pecs. Appreciation clear in her eyes as her smile grew. "You already said, you had a long day. Just lay back and let little ol' me take care of you." A giggle brightened the room. And Peter had a horrifying flash back to the medical assistance Moira had offered after he'd been kind enough bath in the atomic puddle surrounding the bomb for one of her ridiculous chapters.

Watching his expression, she must have sussed out his line of thought. As her eyes rolled and pout formed. "Oh stop it, aren't you ever going to let that go?"

His cheeks darkened, a humorous sight on a man so accomplished and feared. Even still, he couldn't deny the accusatory gleam in the woman's eyes. Just like he couldn't deny she'd been right. However, that didn't mean he was wrong either. "You tried to treat advanced radiation poisoning with Brahmin milk," was his answer, dry and to the point. Moira's eyebrows rose expletively.

How many times had they had this argument that wasn't an argument? Neither had bothered to keep track. Nevertheless they each found themselves falling back on their age old points. Knowing neither had any chance of actually wining.

"And now we know that doesn't work!" because that was a good enough reason. "See? That's just how science works!"

"I would have died if you hadn't found that extra stash of radaway!" he accused, of course at the time he'd been unconscious and drooling on her examination table. "And I mutated. _And_ , you sent me back out a day later telling me not to come back until I had a broken bone to show you!"

"Oh, stop whining. Your skeleton was regenerating-."

"from the mutation-." He quickly interjected.

"And I wasn't going to test that?" she feigned shock. "What kind of scientist would that make me?"

"One that adheres to basic human rights and humane standards."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, horrified, as though he'd answered for her. Ugh…

What did you say after that? Peter certainly didn't know. So instead he just laughed, quiet and low, rumbling in his chest to tickle the fingers still brushing along the toned figure. Moira's expression remained the same. Bright, happy, and oblivious, even though he knew she understood more than anyone in this town. It was at this moment he felt the warm, damp pressure of her woman hood press against his erection. All laughter stopped.

Her smolder was back, forcing his pale brown eyes to meet her own. "Well, maybe I should just find a way to make you forget. Or, something else to remember?" playing with her words, peter could feel her hips start to rock against his, slowly allowing more and more pressure to draw him through her soft folds. It was more than he'd been ready for. And he found his mind discarding anything that didn't immediately pertain to the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him.

Moira continued to grind against him, eyelashes fluttering from the delicious sparks of pleasure she could feel each time her sensitive flesh parted around peter's unyielding mass. Coating him in the warm, honey like arousal that wept from her core. She finally took the pulsing cock in her hands, lifting her full bottom enough to point its head at her depths and lower herself onto he pike of man meat. The filling sensation stretched her neglected muscles apart forcing a wonderful, lustful groan to fill the room.

Moira's eyes closed, allowing herself to focus on the comforting sensation of having peter inside of her once again. More than holding him, more than seeing the formidable light in his eyes, this was the only time she truly allowed herself to believe that he was back. That he was safe. That he was alive. Only when she was on top of him, feeling the healthy racing pace of his heart throb along his length and into her core. A comforting sensation that she wouldn't trade for anything.

"Moira-," peter started, just staring at her. Breathlessly his hand reach out to cup her thigh saddled against his hip. Likewise he felt his hips jerk up, hungry for more. But Moira shushed him before he could say anything more. Shaking her head in slow but savoring tone.

"No more talking." Her smile was gentle. Relief upon joy filling her was a warm gentle energy that suffused her entire being.

She didn't start fucking him. She didn't lift the pale cheeks or hear, nor did she sit herself even harder against his staff. Instead Moira just sat there, straddling peter's hips with his cock buried to the hilt in her warm soft body. Allowing herself and him to appreciate their connection. All the while, fluttering her internal muscles around his girth and massaging any lingering stress right out.

Moira watched the lone wanderer's eyes glaze over while her stomach flexed and relaxed. Moira could feel his gaze on her body and welcomed whatever comfort it might bring. Even opening herself wider for him, leaning back to expose the image of her red haired puffy mound split in half around his cock. His eyes widened, and so did her smile. Turning from gentle to encouraging as she finally began roll her hips against his.

The long, pale skin of her neck was bared as her head fell back. Parting her lips, only the sound of her breath followed purposefully slow despite the abject need for more. The muscles of her back and thighs flexed, tensing under her otherwise soft shape. Leaning back, her hands found the comforting support of Peter's knees stretched out from under her shapely rear.

The sound her wetness broke through the room, sucking against the length of meet stuffed between her lips. Peter's eyes hadn't moved, glued to the picture of their connection where he could watch the piece of himself disappear inside the woman. Transported into a world of pleasure, and warmth. To a place where everything but the picture of her disappeared. Without even trying, she managed to erase the horrors of the wasteland. In a way alcohol and chems had never managed. Moira was an addiction all of her own. And yet, unlike the rest, her's only served to make him stronger than he'd been before.

"Moira," he breathed, despite her warning. But said woman did nothing to stop him, appreciating the moaning tone in his voice. It wasn't speech, it was a prayer. And one she was more than willing to grant as she let her hips finally lifted from his own pulling his length from the comfort of his sheath. Like this she allowed gravity to slowly draw her back home before repeating the gesture in a slow and easy tempo. Meant more to appreciate the man beneath her, than for anything of her own.

Peter's eyes locked on her breasts, full and round and soft and the gentle impact of their bodies meeting jiggled Moira's softer aspects. Arms back, the young woman's posture thrust her chest out even further. Dangling like the ripest of fruit. It was only natural for him to want to reach out and capture them for himself. To once again feel the supple curve rest in his palm.

Opening her eyes, they peered over her eye cheek bones to stare at his dazed expression, taking no small amount of bliss from the obvious lack of darkness. She didn't want him to move. She didn't want him think; not about anything other than that moment and about her. More than radiation, more than super mutants or any other creature Moira had gotten to observe the true danger of the wasteland. Simply put, the loss of hope. The utter, and final crushing of what most would consider to be the human spirit.

Still staring, all the red head could see was the bright life that flowed through Peter's blue orbs full of love, compassion and every other price this world of theirs seemed to demand just to survive. But she wouldn't ever allow peter to pay, not so long as she drew breath. He liked to say that she was his sanctuary. But he had no idea, before he'd arrived, the shadows that existed behind her own eyes. Or the way his mere existence had erased them. And how he continued to the same for people all across the commonwealth.

She could feel his hunger for her made even more evident by just how hard his cock had swollen buried deep in her depths. Her pace continued, gently fucking herself against him with just enough to force to feel the delicious tension of her cheeks against his thighs. Without even being asked, she moved to answer his hunger, shifting her weight forward until her hands came to rest on his shoulder. Now her breasts dangled almost directly in front of his face. Shaking and wobbling with each impact. The lust in his eyes sharpened and so did her grin as she humped her hips back and forth along his unyielding erection.

Pleasure coursed through her body, setting her pale tone a bright pink that burned just beneath the surface. Inside that heat rolled and rolled, feeding off of itself as it coiled around the burning erection spearing past her soft innards demanding satisfaction. Even worn and sore, this part of his body refused to weaken.

Deep inside the hollow of their belly she could feel the pressure throb along the vein's vining their way across the surface of his spire. Thundering with the heavy beet of his heart. Each thump resonated through her body, speaking the words she'd refused to hear. "Close, close, so close," again and again, faster and faster. Until finally she was blessed with the indescribable sensation of warmth blossoming at the very back of her channel, firing against the soft womanly skin and paining it in a hose of white color. Tremors of his pleasure translated into her own. As she enjoyed modest, but satisfying quakes throughout her body.

Laid back on the bed peter's face was twisted into a grimace of relief. Pleasure as base as human origins flooding his senses and carrying away the burdens of the world. Beneath Moira, corded muscles clenched and tightened as he flushed her innards with his essence. Heated pluses of warm cream leaving him in calming waves of numbing bliss. It was over in a heartbeat, leaving him to slump against the mattress, tired eyes admiring Moira's proud smile.

"Feeling better?" she chirped, coy. Peter didn't answer, just staring a dry stare that had the corner of Moira's brilliant eyes crinkling under the stress of her grin. A loud squeak echoed through the building as his hands settled on her waist, catching her off guard. He threw her beside him. Another burst of laughter was smothered before it could pass her lips, swallowed by peter as he pressed his lips against hers. The two smiled against each other like this for several moments before the hunger finally subsided leaving slow and earnest emotion from the other person.

He was still inside her, stuffed to the hilt as their combined juices stained the already marked fabric beneath them. His hands palmed her sides and breasts, no longer groping, just holding her and keeping her supple figure close. Moira molded to him like she's been born to fit against his solid frame. Soft, malleable, and nurturing.

Holding his face against her hair one more time, he breathed in the heavier smell that lingered after sex, drinking it in for as long as it would last. Finally he answered, "Always." Eyes already closed against him, Moira's grin widened, though not nearly as much as when she began to hear the familiar nasal grumble of his snore.

She rested like that for a while, listening to his heavy breath while his heart gently slowed to an even rhythm against her cheek. This was familiar, in a wonderful way. He usually conked right out after her 'welcomes'. And would be asleep for the next twenty four hours before hunger finally forced him to the surface of consciousness. Where she would have a warm meal ready and waiting. Prepared by Jenny, of course. Give her a pile of scrap and cloth and Moira could put together a usable weapon by sunset. But a cook, she was not.

It wasn't perfect, but it was the best home she could offer in this twisted world. For a man who seemed prepared to give up everything for the good of the commonwealth, it wasn't hard at all to see why she would feel the need to give just a little something back. Even if all that amounted to was a warm meal, an even warmer bed, and a smile; just to welcome him back.

Moira felt that same grin spreading and she allowed her naked body to press against him. Finally she allowed her own eyes to close, satisfied from her small window of opportunity she had to just watch him. Knowing she had no idea when it would be she'd have to stare as he walked back out the door he'd just come from. Stepping back into a world of danger. One foot in front of the other.

 **A/N: If anyone would like to Enquire about their own Commission feel free to leave me private message and I'll be more than happy to get back to you. Otherwise, feel free to leave a review. It's appreciated.**


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